A/N: This chapter contains material from the Patriot movie. I own none of it.

A month passed; Gillian avoided Tavington almost altogether. The colonel himself did not seek her out. He was in a quandary with her, and hadn't spoken of the incident to anyone, not even Molly. Gillian had thought of seeking an officer about the issue but in the end, remained silent.

It was late afternoon. Tavington was at wits end writing reports. The mysterious Ghost had eluded him and had embarrassed him and his superiors. Tavington trailed the man and his men, little more than a nose behind them, but just when he would come upon them, they would disappear into the shadows of the trees. It was a fighting tactic unlike any other the colonel had seen. The guerilla tactics of the Colonial Militia were far from the gentlemanly style Cornwallis had implored that Tavington use.

"Bloody Ghost," the colonel muttered to himself, folding and sealing the last of his reports. "There has got to be another way…"

"Colonel?"

William looked up to see Molly standing just inside his tent.

"I'm not in the mood," Tavington looked away.

"But surely, you have not forgotten the ball this evening?"

"Of course not. And no, I am not taking anyone."

"You could ask Gillian," she suggested. "I don't think she is spoken for."

"Absolutely not!"

Molly sighed.

"You're impossible."

"I'm not in the mood, Molly!" Tavington snapped.

Molly raised a brow and allowed him to settle before continuing.

"You smell terrible."

"Well, I have been in the saddle for three days."

"I will draw you a bath."

Tavington moved to protest but she stopped him with a glare.

"Not even, William. You'll need a woman's touch to get that grime off you."

The colonel clenched his jaw.

"I'll do it myself; just draw me a bath."

"Fine. Come to my tent then."

The follower led him to her tent where she wasted no time in drawing a hot bath before stripping the colonel down and rubbing his shoulders as he sank into the water. Tavington hissed as she found a knot in his shoulder and began to rub it out. Molly said nothing but wetted his hair and allowed him to wash.

As soon as he was done washing, Molly gave him a light kiss, touching his chin with her right index finger.

"You need to shave…"

"I'll use my razor then," Tavington said pointedly, quirking a brow.

Molly rolled her eyes and left to retrieve his shaving things from his tent. Once back, she handed them to the colonel and watched him shave, carefully holding a mirror in one hand, the razor in the other as he went over the grain with precise strokes.

When William had finished, he set aside his shaving things and stood, allowing the water to run off his body. Molly grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his shoulders, leaning against his back. Tavington allowed her to rest against him momentarily before he stepped out of the washbasin, dried off, and asked her to retrieve his dress uniform. She obeyed, and returned with a uniform not unlike the one he wore while on duty, but with more ruffles.

William pulled the black breeches and white stockings on. Then he allowed Molly to put on his white shirt, ruffled cravat and jacket. Tavington looked downat the black, silver-buckled shoes with discontent. Just looking at them made him feel like a stuffed up aristocrat. Still, he put them on and slicked his hair with apple pomade before queuing it back.

Molly gave him an appraising look, stroking the side of his face.

"No trouble tonight, Sir," she said, pecking his lips.

Tavington arrived at Middleton Place around mid-evening. Soldiers dotted the grounds, accompanied by loyalist women. Almost immediately, Lord Cornwallis requested an audience with him. The colonel cursed to himself; apparently nothing could go right for him.

William found the lord general in his dressing room, being fitted with a makeshift dresscoat.

"It's a horseblanket," he scoffed.

"Oh I don't know, Milord; it's really quite nice," Tavington said in a strained voice.

"Very well, it's a nice horseblanket…" Cornwallis complained emphatically. "Colonel Tavington, why, after six weeks, am I still here here at Middleton Place attending a ball in South Carolina when I should be attending balls in North Carolina? First the theft of my personal baggage, including my memoirs, of on which I spent countless hours. Then half the bridges and ferries between here and Charles Town burned. Colonel, if you can't protect our supply lines against militia, how do you intend doing so against the Colonial regulars or the French, when they arrive?"

Tavington burned.

"Milord, they won't fight like regulars; we can't find them-"

"Colonel, they're militia. They're farmers with pitchforks!"

William swallowed and replied, "They're rather more than that, I'm afraid Milord

; made so by their commander, this 'Ghost'-"

"Ghost, ghost, ghost. You created this Ghost, Colonel," Cornwallis fumed.

"Milord."

"Your brutality has swelled his ranks, without which this ghost would have disappeared and I would be in North Carolina or Virginia by now-"

"In my defense"

"Oh enough, enough! Fine soldier you are, bested by a bedtime story." Cornwallis finished, humiliating Tavington further.

"Bring me the horseblanket."

Face red with embarrassment, Tavington followed behind Cornwallis out of the dressing room and slunk down the stairs leading out onto the grounds of Middleton Place. There, he quickly made for a glass of wine as a couple of women sidled up to make conversation. Luckily, or unluckily enough, the cargo ship that was sitting in the river not far from where he was exploded, causing a great distraction. Tavington downed his glass and threw it with a crash to the ground. He was certain to be blamed for ship's explosion.

The colonel glanced over to where Cornwallis was standing. The man looked apoplectic. William saw this as his cue to leave and quickly retreated from the grounds, found a carriage and directed the driver back to camp.